


Snowballs

by Crysta



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 11:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2849990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crysta/pseuds/Crysta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A snowball fight at Skyhold - of all things to happen while the world's falling apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowballs

He's drilling the young recruits, still, some of them still so terrible with their weapons that he begins to think they may be beyond hope; that perhaps a role without a sword and shield would be better for them. Barking orders at them, it's easy to ignore the raucous cries behind him, something happening but of no relevance to him.

At least, until a snowball smacks him in the back of the head.

There's a moment of unbelievable silence, every single one of the recruits going still and even the shrieks and yells that had been going on behind him die instantly. He turns to find out who was responsible for the freezing missile that's dripping ice water down his neck and the back of his armour.

Iron Bull and Krem are by the door of the tavern, ganging up - Krem packing snowballs and Iron Bull throwing them with a Qunari's strength and a spy's eye. Dorian is halfway up the stairs to the main hall, staff in hand and the air rippling lightly around him as a barrier slowly wears away. Sera's hanging out of her window in the upstairs of the tavern, a grin wide enough that he fancies her head might split clean in two on her face. None of them, however, match the guilty expression of the Inquisitor, at the bottom of the stairs Dorian has claimed.

She brushes her hair back off her face and smiles sheepishly at him. Definitely the source of the errant snowball.

The silence is still resounding, a physical weight in the air as she draws closer to him slowly. The fight seems to be on hold, for the time being at least.

"I'm so sorry, Comm - " she starts - but a snowball smacks her square in the face.

Cullen smirks, tossing another up and down in his hand - purloined, like the one that just cut the Inquisitor off, from the pile Krem and Iron Bull have built up.

If the silence was resounding when he got hit, it's absolutely deafening now that the Inquisitor is the one with ice water running down her face as the snowball's shattered remains melt on her skin.

Her expression is a mixture between bewildered and indignant, and for a moment, Cullen thinks he's crossed a line.

Then the Inquisitor ducks sideways, scoops up a handful of snow and hurls it at him without finesse, and he throws an arm up to defend himself, missile exploding into a cloud of white powder in the air as it shatters on his armour.

It seems to revive the others and instantly snowballs are being hurled in every which direction once more, complete with the occasional yell - Dorian a couple of times when he fails to notice his barrier has failed before someone hits him, Bull lets out a good one when he gets hit on the horn and momentarily blinded by the cloud of snow in his face - and the odd shriek - those from the Inquisitor, who seems to be the favourite target now that he's dared to hit her. 

He could go back to his recruits, but it brings back memories of playing with his siblings, before the Templars, before Kirkwall, before the Ferelden Circle, before _anything_. So he allows himself to be a part of the battle, which rages until everyone is tired and sore and either soaked wet with melted snow or covered with shattered snowballs.

Josephine looks disapprovingly at him when he leads the Inquisitor through the main hall and into her room, planting her firmly in front of the diplomat's raging fire, but he doesn't care, because she's shivering and her fingers are ice cold, and really, a bit of water isn't going to kill Josephine's carpet. There's snow sprinkled in the fur around his neck and ice water is still running down his back which he infuriatingly can't fix, so tries to ignore.

"Who won?" asks Leliana, on her way through to the war table, and the Inquisitor shrugs at the exact same moment he does. They look at each other and laugh - not loud, deep laughter, just gentle chuckling.

A moment of normality in the insanity of their situation, Cullen thinks, and he's grateful to the Inquisitor for making it happen. There won't be many chances for them all to cut loose in the weeks to come, so he'll savour this for the time being.

Hopefully, when Corypheus is dealt with, there will be plenty of time for them to have more snowball fights.


End file.
